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ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 83

作者: MIKS DELOSO
last update 最終更新日: 2025-08-17 23:56:23

Marie's mirror reflection was the only one that actually got her. The cut of her features, the icy resolve of her eyes this was the woman who had endured so much, and this was the woman who would see to it that no one particularly Fiona and Liza took what belonged to her. She had worked too hard and for too long for this life, for this family, to allow it to escape from her hands.

As her fingers ran over the cool surface of the vanity, she could feel the old sting of frustration, rage, and a deep, gnawing feeling of entitlement. She had waited patiently for the right time to strike, to maneuver Fiona out of Charles's life. She had attempted to be cool, to make the woman believe she belonged in this world. But now there was no more waiting. The moment for patience had passed.

She wheeled away from the mirror, moving towards the door with a new determination.

As soon as the door went click, she stood before Charles. He was standing in the hallway, his jaw clenched, his eyes bristling. H
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  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 168

    No cheers. Only the soft sound of breath. It was the right tone—iron without cruelty.Ramon's voice came over the secure line, taut and efficient. "He's not small-time. He has layers-lawyers, shells, men who'll try to buy time. Trace the accounts. Freeze them. Notify Interpol. A takedown is in process."“So get it done,” Jamaica said. Her cane tapped twice on the console in a staccato that felt like punctuation. “I want every conduit severed.”They moved like a machine with a thirst for fact. Legal teams in Makati wrote letters; Valeria coordinated with London's counsel; Ramon's techs dove into server logs with Jose at their side, the analyst who could read a missing heartbeat in a data packet. They pulled ledgers, mirrored images of drives, hashed evidence into immutable files. Each procedure was a lock, and they clicked in sequence.“Prague’s already turned over the server logs,” Jose said, voice taut with that triumph-smell of caffeine. He jacked a drive into the air like a trophy

  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 167

    They moved like predators and accountants at once: Ramon's men in black, Valeria's legal team in soft shoes, and a phalanx of analysts who read the world in packets and timestamps. The Billion house had become a command center, its maps and live feeds plastered to walls, halos of monitor light painting everyone's faces the color of surveillance."Show me the trail," Madam Jamaica said, her voice an icicle. She did not sit. She could not. The house she'd built thrummed with alertness around her.Ramon pulled up the chain on a screen: a fat river of transactions, time stamps, and IP hops. "They moved money through three jurisdictions," he said. "Cayman, Malta, Cyprus. Then into a Cypriot holding shell that funnels through a boutique firm in Prague. The data route bounces through a farm outside Prague before it hits a cache in London. That's our lever."Valeria leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "So Brenn thinks he's inscrutable. He's not. We trace the proxies, we freeze the accounts

  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 166

    Silence snapped like wire across the secure line. For a moment, the only sound was the soft, uneven breathing of the room—Fiona's still shakily steady; Liza's finally drifting into the thin safety of sleep; Charles's a ragged anchor beside them. Then Jamaica hung up, cane tapping the floor in a slow controlled rhythm that felt like a countdown.“We close every gap,” she said. “No surprise, no mercy.”They moved with the economy of people who'd learned how to turn rage into instruments.Ramon ran the operation like a chess master. The van had been tracked-temporary plates, false refuels, a courier account that had been paid in cash at several stations. But the men who'd thought themselves invisible had left fingerprints the way old men leave their names on ledgers: sloppy, inevitable. Phone towers, petty vendors, and CCTVs from a sleepy sari-sari store gave Ramon threads, and threads made a map.“Brenn’s proxies routed payments through three jurisdictions—Cayman, then Malta, then a hol

  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 165

    A small kid—half tremble, half bravado, eyes too old for his face—pointed with a shaking finger toward a dark corner stacked with pallets. “They’re there,” he croaked.They moved like a single organism: two men angled left, a woman operative swept low to the floor and a pair of boots landed as someone kicked away an oil-stained tarp. Light slashed across the concrete and for a second the world held its breath.Fiona’s heart exploded into a thousand hot pieces when her outline blurred into the wash of flashlights. Someone’s voice—Ramon’s—barked orders; the men in black snapped into positions around the room. Then, impossibly, Marie Drams stepped forward from the knot of shadows, closer than Fiona expected, a look on her face like a living wound.“Do you think they’ll find you?!” Marie screamed, each word a serrated thing. “Before they do, I’ll make sure you die!” She slapped

  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 164

    One of the kidnappers, masked and curt, ignored her: "You'll get instructions soon.""Instructions? From who?" Fiona demanded, her voice shaking with anger.He didn't answer. Instead, he pushed them inside a warehouse, locking the rusted gate behind them.Inside was darkness and mildew. A chair. A single camera blinking red in the corner.Then, the sound came—metallic, faraway. The click of a live video connection.The camera light steadied.And somewhere elsewhere in the city, Marie Drams watched from her laptop.In the mirror, her reflection shimmered over that of Fiona and her crying daughter.And then Marie's lips curved, not in joy, but in deep, twisted satisfaction from power reclaimed.“They took my child,” she whispered, her voice like a blade, “so now they’ll learn what it feels like.”Her phone buzzed—R’s voice on the other end. “They’re secured

  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 163

    On the estate, Candy received a new silk doll and an extra custard, while Jamaica recited a poem to her in such a voice that made the toy's fur seem dear. Upstairs, at the nursery window, Fiona smoothed Liza's hair and checked a message from Valeria, oblivious to how three men in a moment would step through the service corridor below with an intent so cold, it might have left ice in the veins of the house.Power rearranged itself in the night—quiet, terrible, inevitable.When the city slept, the plan unfolded.The sun had barely climbed above the skyline when Fiona Billion's sedan glided out of the Billion estate gates. Morning lay, deceptively gentle: the sky was brushed with gold; the traffic hummed along EDSA; Liza's laughter was bright in the backseat.“Mommy, can we get ice cream after school?” Liza asked, swinging her legs as her schoolbag bumped her knees.Fiona smiled in the rearview mirror. “Only if you finish your home

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